Memoirs of a Maid
by Miraerys
Summary: Independent short stories about a Hellsing maid. Worn and disillusioned by time, she waits for everlasting peace. Each chapter independent unless stated otherwise. Includes various timelines and characters. Short stories and drabbles. Centres on an OC.
1. Introducing Anne

**This is an introduction to my character, Anne. I broke some well known rules of writing and am going to infodump you guys for the next few chapters. I'm currently working on an actual story with a plot that features Anne (but does not centre around her) and I'd like opinions on her if you want to share them.**

**This is a collection of short stories, so you can skip around chapters in any way you like. Pick out the title that interests you and check it out. There is no consistent plot.**

**I don't own Hellsing.**

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"You poor dear, you must be exhausted."

Seras quickly spun around, alarmed to see an elderly woman standing at the door. Only an hour ago had she woken, and now in 3 hours' time, she was already to be heading to her first mission with Alucard. It all seemed too fast for Seras, but she followed orders regardless.

The woman smiled kindly at her, approaching her with casual dignity. She was a tall woman with stiff posture and thin features. Her expression was one of polite indifference, although tinged with improper maternal concern. It was a strange mixture of intimidating and welcoming, and seeing the old feminine figure, it brought a sense of confusing comfort to Seras. "Hello," she said, unsure if she was being too informal. The woman seemed so upright.

"Seras Victoria, correct?" she asked.

Seras nodded, her face quickly flushing upon the realisation she was only half dressed. "Yes, ma'am."

The maid chuckled as Seras shifted uncomfortably, seeing as she was only in her underwear. "Nothing you have that I don't know about, dear. Now, where are my manners? My name is Anne Douglas, steward of the Hellsing Mansion and retired vampire hunter. I'm here to assist you with your uniform."

"Don't worry about it. I can put it on just fine."

"Oh, I hope so. No, love, I'm simply here to check for any necessary alterations. Your bust size was quite unique therefore it wouldn't surprise me if the tailor cocked up."

Seras looked down at the uniform, nodding gently. As Seras dressed, the woman busied herself with small chores, making the bed, clearing the night table, and fetching measuring tape. Upon seeing Seras fully dressed, Anne scowled. "Unacceptable," she muttered, measuring the length of the skirt. It barely covered the Draculina's bottom, her chest area was far too tight, and whoever thought wearing stockings was an excellent idea was probably the same person who would make clothing decisions for the inhabitants of Hell. "You look like a harlot. Vampire or not, no proper Englishwoman should be disgraced like this. I'll get started on making that blasted piece of cloth longer. If he hadn't been dead for 10 years, God rest his soul, I would've thought Sir Arthur was behind this. Who knows now? Walter's never struck me as the odd pervert, Integra has more integrity than this, and Alucard wouldn't care less."

"Master?"

"Yes. That master of yours is an interesting character. If you're wise, you might disdain him as much as I do."

Seras smiled politely. She didn't know anything about Alucard, only that he shot her through the chest and turned her into a vampire. Nothing seemed to shock Seras anymore. For a moment, she wondered how a normal human would react to all of this. She let out a small breath before glancing back at the steward, who bowed respectfully. As Anne turned to leave, Seras held out her arm before quickly catching herself and pulling back once more. "Wait!"

Anne paused. "Is there anything you require, Miss Victoria?"

Seras looked down in self-doubt. "I was just hoping you'd stay and we could talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah. Just talk. I used to talk to my coworkers back at the police station all the time. Eddie was always kind to me. I don't know…I just feel like everything's going too fast and I'd like to make it slower again."

Anne smiled kindly. "Of course." What a sweet girl. It elicited a deep sympathy from Anne, to see Seras already beginning to struggle so much with the loss of her humanity. Anne dismissed the thought. No, her humanity remained. Time had not thrust her into the depths of desperation Alucard experienced, had not stripped her of all sanity and empathy as she stared at endless hands moving in a circle mocking her immortality. For now, the girl was fine.

Seras giggled, sitting down on the bed. "It's so nice to talk to a girl. I was the only woman at the station."

Anne sat across from her, crossing her ankles and resting herself slightly to the left. "It is nice, isn't it? I used to have secret little conversations with Integra all the time when she was just a girl. Those little blue eyes of hers. They sparkled and shined with infatuation when she spoke about some singer or actor from a programme. It was absolutely endearing. I didn't tell you that, however." Anne winked. "So, go on. What do you want to talk about? Boys? Weather? Weapons?"

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of things like family or interests."

"Ah, yes. Do tell me about your family. Walter should be working on how to handle them right now."

Seras smiled sorrowfully. "He'll have an easy time. They're gone. But…what about yours?"

It was a while before Anne spoke, unsure if her condolence amounted to anything. "I'm terribly sorry about your loss," she began. The child began to make sense to her at that moment. An orphan girl turned into a vampire. It was almost cliché. "I have two brothers and a sister. They all have their families, we meet once a year, and as for me…" Anne sighed and removed the ring on her left hand. She placed it carefully on Seras' palm, her eyes dull and heavy. "That's all I have."

"…You were married?"

"Yes. A long time ago."

"What happened?"

She smiled forlornly. "He passed, of course. May he rest well."

"I'm so sorry."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing to be sorry for, dove. The jealous virgin has him now."

That struck Seras as oddly not religiously correct. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Hm, no. I don't mind. It was 39 years ago…"


	2. Origin of the Maid

**This is basically an info dump on Anne's character as told by Anne. I usually like it with bits and pieces of information regarding background are spread around, but seeing as these are independent short stories, I thought that would be too much for a reader to keep track and timeline. So here's Anne's story, told by Anne.**

**I didn't initially plan for Seras and Anne to have a bond, but then I liked the idea of it. Integra will come up later, along with the Wild Geese. Now Alucard is difficult because she actively tries to reduce her time around him. It's not hate as much as it is a combination of threat and resentment. Eh. Writing short stories to establish relationships is hard. I feel like just telling you.**

**I don't own Hellsing.**

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"I barely remember what happened. I was thrown against something, maybe I fell. I can't remember. What I do remember is Ralph walking towards me, his eyes bright red, his teeth replaced with fangs, his once supple face rotten and decomposing. The man I loved so much, who once stood so tall…there he was, nothing left except tattered clothes and gaping sockets of flesh. A monster. A monster that had the intention to rip me apart and consume me. A monster who threw me against the ground and crushed my swollen belly. The same monster, who minutes before then, had been the man to give me his name and put a child in me. I was ready to die at that point. I wasn't at all like you. I gave up."

Anne poured a small bit of blood into Seras' cup. The young vampire was reluctant, but Anne continued to push the cup towards her. "For your strength, darling," Anne insisted. Seras looked away, not ready yet to accept her nature as such an unholy creature.

"What happened then?" Seras asked, still eager to hear what had happened to Anne. "How did you survive?"

Anne held her chest, setting down the kettle beside Seras. "Ralph was cut to pieces. They all were. The ghouls that marched towards me were split in halves or fours. More sprang up around me, and the next thing I knew, they just fell. All of them. Just fell and died, this time really died. I remember how Ralph's blood splattered all over me, I can still feel it running down my cheek. His rotten corpse crumbled at my feet. I'll never forget the sight of looking down and seeing my fingers stained with his blood, the shine of the diamond he had given me darkened by the warm liquid. I wanted to be horrified, but my mind would not let me comprehend what had happened. It was too much to bear. My senses were already lost, so I assume my instinct was to crawl over to my deceased husband's pieces and mourn him. I sat there, surrounded by his blood and pieces, bleeding myself from my crushed belly. I was in such a state of shock, I didn't question what he was, I didn't think about how those who weren't cut apart fell and died."

"Was it master that killed them?"

She chuckled. "No, an Angel of Death did, with his dark wings and wicked schemes. The demon dog had been locked in its cage at that point, the leash around his neck shortened after the war."

"Angel of Death? Walter?"

"Yes. You can't see it now, but Walter was a fearsome killer in his youth. He's still lethal by all accounts, of course, but my how he could tear through thousands of ghouls with a mere flick of his wrist. It excited the heart of any vulnerable woman. When I first saw him, Walter was terror itself. He didn't show me any sort of mercy, no comfort whatsoever. No, he berated me for crying over pieces of rotten skin and sinews."

"Walter did that? I can't imagine he'd be so cruel."

"It was a different time. Years change us all, whether or not we see it physically."

Seras nodded. "So how did you join Hellsing?"

"Ah, yes. He tore me away from my Ralph. Walter, I mean. I was brought to a tent set up outside of Leeds, and there I met Sir Arthur Hellsing, Integra's father. He ordered for me to be medically examined and Walter to report on the conditions of the affected area. A man of many faults, nevertheless Sir Hellsing was always stern in a proper respect. I had no idea how much pain my body was in until I was set down on that cot. Goodness, that bloody cot. I was examined, those workers staring at me with wide, terrible eyes. I held my stomach the entire time. I couldn't bear to look at it. A part of me sort of expected Ralph to come into that tent and tell me it was all a nightmare. I had a vivid dream is all. I clung dearly to the baby he gave me. I didn't look. I couldn't look. That's when they told me. I already knew, but I didn't want to believe, I wanted to keep holding on. I kept whispering to myself...if I was alive, so was my baby boy. I was 27 weeks pregnant with a beautiful boy, and right there, it was confirmed he died. Killed by his own father and failed by his mother. Now it was his blood that I was surrounded by, my boy's. Our son."

Seras stared at the blood now. Just like that, everything was gone in one night. God must've humored himself with these tragedies, as he had such a fondness for making them occur so often. "I'm sorry."

Anne took a deep, heavy breath and sat down in front of Seras. For a moment, her face twisted in misery before collecting herself once more. "The infant that never was, my poor baby whose life was stripped so early he didn't even get to breath air. That child in my womb was all I had left of my love, and he slipped from me. Because I was so along in my pregnancy, they told me I had to birth him. And I did. I spent hours in an induced labour, pushing his corpse out of my body. I had rather that than let him be torn to pieces. I wanted something whole, I wanted to hold him whole. I never did get to, they took from me. Didn't want let me see. But I did." Anne extended her arm towards Seras, cupping her hands. Worn eyes stared deep into her, the woman's fingers trembling slightly. "He could've fit in my hands, small like this. I saw him...he was so red and bloody, his little neck snapped by the umbilical cord. He even looked disjointed.

The heartbreak I experienced at that moment…the pain was unimaginable. I screamed so loud I swore Ralph could hear me wherever he was. It took five nurses to stop my wailing. I kept begging them to save my son, and all they could do was try to hide him from me, even after they realised I had seen him. As Sir Hellsing explained to me that it had been monsters called vampires that attacked my husband and I, a vicious rage consumed me. All I could think about was vengeance. I believed him. I saw those creatures myself, and I felt an urge to kill them all. I was in so much anguish. I was 26 years old then, blinded by absolute hatred of vampires and an inconsolable agony. Everything I loved, all gone in a matter of minutes, all ripped from me. I swore to myself I would not rest until I had killed every vampire that walked the earth. Not until I sent the last one to the depths of Hell would the debt be paid. And so, I asked Arthur Hellsing for nothing more than to give me all the opportunities he could to kill these things that took everything from me."

"He let you?"

Anne smirked. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"But, how did you convince him?"

"Who knows? With a rifle and a pretty face, I guess. Perhaps he was impressed by my new resolve to live. Maybe he wanted to fill the space between my legs my husband had left. I never understood what convinced him. That man was brilliant as much as he was vain. Walter wasn't too happy about it at first. Saw me as nothing more than a nuisance. Then, when I met Alucard…that's when I discovered what fear was. I recall thinking how the real reason Alucard could not die was because of how terrified death must've been of him. Shadows became light to hide from him, and every time I heard his arrogant and sinister cackle, I thought I had been thrusted into hell with the rest of the countless souls he's consumed."

"Master isn't so terrifying."

"You're his fledgling. Of course he doesn't seem so to you, and I'm much bigger coward honestly. Once I was employed by Hellsing, Walter trained me. Taught me all he could on demonology, how to fight them, dodge bullets, mutilate bodies, dispose of corpses in an efficient manner, aim a gun in less than a second and shoot faster. My privileged princess days were over, and that man made sure I was turned into a true hunter. I've always owed him a great deal, despite his claims that it was all for his benefit. Do you want to hear the ending now?"

Seras nodded. "Yes."

"It all amounted to nothing. Year after year, I killed and killed more vampires and ghouls than I ever cared to count. I took my orders, hunted my prey, and waited for more. I realised there wasn't more. There was no justice, there was no satisfaction, there was no sense of consolation. My hands were drenched in blood, my body aging and withering, and there was nothing but an empty feeling within me that I knew I could never fill with a life of violence. A gaping hole was left that night, and all those years of hunting never filled it. Meanwhile, I saw my brothers and sisters marry, have children, their children have children, and live their lives peacefully. I held their babies, I saw them grow. I looked on from the outside as my nephew graduated, and my niece won a sport event. I could not beam with pride the way my brothers did. It was something I would never have, and it was all my own fault. I'll be right here, alone and forgotten by them all. A proper penance for my sins.

I had let my rage consume my life. I wondered what would've happened if I had simply mourned Ralph instead of fighting for naught, if maybe I had allowed myself to even find someone new, maybe remarry and have my children. Live out life as I had hoped in my girlhood. Only too late did I realise that allowing myself to feel joy again, or try, wouldn't insult my dead. If only I had just given myself time rather than jump into shallow water. I survived that night, and all I did with my second chance to live was toss it away. I've been grieving for so long with no respite, and my own decisions were to blame. I never allowed my late husband to rest in peace or myself carry on. My rage wasn't going to bring Ralph back. No amount of vampires I killed was going to correct what had happened. Nothing was all I received from vengeance. My hate fueled nothing but my own misery. Now here I am, one decision I made as a broken youth, and an entire lifetime worth of chances wasted away. All that's left now is for someone to dispose of the trash. I can think about it all I want, but what can I do? Wait. Wait until the day it's finally over. That's all anyone could do. Think about what could've been while enduring what is. There is no God in Heaven or Devil in Hell that can turn back the march of time, so we carry on and wait, remembering bitter memories and dreaming of lost opportunities."

Anne chuckled, shaking her head slowly. "Funny, isn't it? I did what I felt was right and all I receive is regret. You always see clearly backwards." She took a deep breath, smiling dejectedly towards the Draculina, greying and withered skin gently on top of hers. "Alucard has offered me a few times to put an end to my misery. That cocky grin of his mocks me every time he does. Loves to play with emotions, see how far he can push human frailty. No, I'd never let myself die at the hands of a vampire. My empty life will not end with such an insult."

Seras noticed Anne's hand had been on her wrist for a while, a small pleading look in her eyes. It brought such a deep sense of shame to Seras, who chose the life of a vampire. She was the creature Anne despised so much she threw her life away to destroy them. "Do you hate me, then?"

"Don't be absurd." That shocked Seras, who looked at her in surprise. "I'm 65 years old now. My anger is gone. It disappeared the moment I finally let Ralph rest in peace. Hatred is a demanding master, and I'm too old to service it any longer. Vampires are nothing to be hated, they're to be pitied if anything. No, Seras, I don't hate you. Look at the expanse of the sky and all it covers, and that is how much you matter to me. I can only dream of daughters as brave and beautiful as you." Anne stood up, picking up the kettle once more and filling Seras' cup with blood. She pushed it towards her even more, smiling gently as she did. "Now, go on, drink and pick up your strength."

With that, Anne left, leaving Seras to her thoughts. The night fell heavy around her, and the silence became unbearably loud. Taking the cup of blood with her, Seras looked up at the star speckled sky and all it covered. The seas that it covered, the mountains it covered, the deserts, and glaciers it enveloped. Seras smiled. She remembered a little bit. She used to extend her arms wide and say, "I love you this much." Under the cover of the sky, Seras took a sip.

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**I did try to portray the "grandmother but not a grandmother" feel to Anne. I wanted Seras to be on the receiving side of the "grandmother" feelings. Seras had a parent-less life, Anne had a childless one. Her deep rooted regret over her actions as a 26 year old girl kinda lead to this habit of her "adopting," in a sense, the younger members that come through Hellsing to create an illusion of parenthood while trying to maintain her distance as a servant. If that makes sense.**

**Hope she's not too terrible. Stigma's against OCs are completely understandable. I've sectioned her off so the Hellsing section isn't littered with this abomination. xD**


	3. God's Mercy

**A conversation with Alucard.**

**I don't own Hellsing.**

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"Oh, what a pleasant surprise. And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

The vast and damp dungeon had always been an uncomfortable place to visit. Its dreariness became a burden to those who were accustomed to the clarity of day, and the humidity was overwhelmingly uncomfortable to stand in. The scatter of insects could be heard sometimes, with the occasional pitter patter of some unknown creature. No living thing lasted long, not if it was so bold as to irritate the Nosferatu who sat in his secluded throne.

The elderly maid chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment before facing the intimidating being. "It's always so flattering how you play the fool for me, as if you weren't expecting my visit. I'm only here in regards of the recent attack on Hellsing."

"Very well, go on."

"Moments before he died, one of the brothers muttered a rather peculiar word: Millennium. Walter is currently investigating the message for any relevant information, but I was wondering if you knew any significance to it."

Millennium? Alucard tilted the wine glass in his hand, watching the liquid inside swish and adhere to the surface of the object. Yes, that word did strike him as incredibly familiar. It was like a fond memory to him, the sheer madness and excitement that the word brought back from the past. But, his speculation couldn't have been right. The memory ended in thorough destruction with not a single body left whole. "Fascinating. Did he say anything else?"

"Unfortunately, no. He burnt up before he could speak any further, and at the time, Integra had more pressing matters. The loss of our men was absolutely devastating and insulting to us all. May God have mercy on them."

Alucard scoffed, the wine in the glass stilling as he set it down beside him. "God's mercy. What an absurd notion."

"Does the phrase vex you?"

"I suppose not. No, the truly irritating part is the pervasive lie of God's supposed mercy. Please, it's enough to make me laugh."

Anne chuckled. "It is said that it was by his mercy that even the fallen angel was spared from oblivion."

"Then was it by his mercy that the devil was allowed to run rampant and engulf the earth in its entirety? Such a merciful, knowledgeable God, and yet he allowed to live the very evil that would plague humanity. His mercy would only breed suffering, and what mercy is left for those he created on a whim? It strikes me as rather odd that such a powerful and all-knowing being couldn't have known of a treacherous snake in his garden, or had the ability to will his subjects' loyalty. Such a grandiose God, and yet not even his omnipotence could stop one from forming doubts of his greatness."

Anne narrowed her eyes towards the ground, her smile broadening. "Wise men have called him kind and forgiving, vampire Alucard."

"Wisdom…how moot that word has become. They've all been fooled by the same tactic. A being that throws his creation into fire only to flick some water and demand they call him merciful. Humans are nothing more than a gaping wound left to fester, fighting each other for trivialities, wealth, and the smallest morsels of food while God sits on his throne and demands we gawk at his benevolence. God's mercy is nothing more than a mad king's desperate attempt to keep hold of his falling kingdom."

"Yes, I guess you're right. But every god has his bloodlust. Feeding him praise fills common man with a sense of security, no matter how false you may see it. It is simple human desire to follow the ravings of a madman rather than be left with the fear of independence." Anne finally found it within herself to face Alucard, her expression one of amusement and cynicism. "The poor have their gods, the rich their wealth, and the rest are left with nothing but questions. Hasn't it always been so?"

Alucard laughed, feeling a small spark in his belly with the elderly woman's words. "Do I see a quiver of doubt in your faith? I hope I haven't shot you, my dear."

"Nonsense. My faith is adamant. The weak heart of a woman needs the promise of a God and whatever mercy he can offer. I'll take the droplets on my cheek rather than be completely forsaken in fire."

Alucard's sinister laughter rose as he clapped slowly at Anne's performance. "Weak heart, you say? And here you are accusing me of acting the fool."

"I rather have the bliss of a fool than the burden of a sage. I believe my age has permitted me that privilege."

Alucard closed his eyes in thought and reclined against his seat. Slowly, he opened them again in delight. "Age permits nothing. No, it is silent dignity that gives you your beauty, and prosperity that allows you respite from your reason."

Anne lowly chuckled, turning away from him. "Your flattery is too kind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to end my formalities here. Have a pleasant evening, vampire." The last thing she needed was his teasing, some warped form of intrigue he had a fondness of using with silver foxes.

Alucard picked up his wine glass once more upon hearing her shut the door to the basement. He stared at the red liquid, fascinated by the stillness of the surface. It remained so still, and yet, an astute observer could see the currents inside the glass, the movement of particles bustling about towards the surface. What fun he had with the lovely steward. If only she did visit him more often.

Anne looked back as she heard a loud cackle coming from the hall. She let out a small breath, glancing at a portrait beside her. "And Time, Alucard, will allow me relief from your backhanded mockery."


	4. Good Fun

_I decided to write another chapter of this.  
_

_Thank you for reading._

_It centres around a conversation between Anne (65 years) and Seras (young woman)._

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"How was it like?"

"Hm?"

Anne glanced at Seras, confused over her question. The girl had been acting odd lately. She had been spending an unusual amount of time near the mercenaries, even outside the shooting range, as well as asking Anne the strangest of questions. They were questions the steward imagined Integra could not answer, being as Integra was the purest of virgins. A man had yet to lay a finger on her. No, the questions Seras asked were not suitable for a woman like her.

They were girlish questions. They were ones churning in the mind of curious young women, glancing at that certain man to have caught their eye. They were questions that fluttered in a girl's bosom, made her stomach turn with anticipation, drove her to a lovesick madness. Anne could recognize them. They were so simple to see. It was a wonder how she ever thought she was being sneaky with them at that age.

Ah, Anne thought, a schoolgirl's conversation. That's what Seras must've sought. After all, the young woman was barely in her twenties and had no experience with men until that certain French lecher suddenly took interest in her. Very well then, Anne was never one to turn down an opportunity for educational fun. Hellsing's new addition had so far been an absolute delight.

Seras cleared her throat, a bit embarrassed of speaking to another about such matters. "Well…what was it like to be married?"

Anne smiled kindly, hoping for a different question but this one was just as harmless. "I was only married for 2 years. It's a bit inappropriate for me to answer that, wouldn't you say?"

"2 years? But I was told you knew him longer."

"You asked about marriage. You never mentioned anything before. But, no need to clarify. I understand just fine." Anne chuckled, leaning back on her chair. It was a long story, so she may as well be comfortable. "I met Ralph when I was no more than 19 years old. Saw him in my lecture hall one day trying to convince the professor to exempt him from an upcoming exam so he could go hunting. That git even tried to bribe him with deerskin. I'm not sure what happened after…it's been so long…but there I was outside the hall looking at his cheeky grin. He asked me to go with him to some show, and I was so busy dreaming of pregnant pigeons that all I can remember is that bold way he suddenly just grabbed my hand and told me how I was going to love him before the end of the year."

Seras smiled. "That sounds exciting…and odd."

"Good…so I've answered your question."

Seras widened her eyes as she realised the point of Anne's story, her cheeks turning red with both amazement and uneasiness. "I see."

Anne, however, didn't seem to mind and patted Seras' hand kindly. "Exciting, exhilarating, nervous…and all so incredibly odd. Girls are told by God knows who or what how we're supposed to feel, and yet, we can't describe it all that well when we're there. It simply feels the way it's supposed to feel, the way it feels. I could use words like "just" or "that way" to tell you, but I know you're looking for more than that, aren't you? My guess would be that you're looking for some type of affirmation, or maybe some type of explanation for what you've been experiencing as of late. Let me as ask you something now…the way you feel…is it confusing you? Is it nothing at all like the way you've heard? Perhaps that's why you're feeling so lost."

Seras nodded. "Yes."

"Then it's exactly the way it's supposed to be." Anne laughed for a moment, almost congratulating Seras on the new experience. She could still recall being 20 years old and telling Ralph how right he had been: she was in love with him by the end of the year. "I spent 6 years of my life with that man…but he's been on my mind for a lifetime."

There were no words Seras could say to console the elderly woman, no words she could mutter that would make much difference on the heartache the steward endured. Instead, Seras in her youthful awkwardness shifted slightly, conflicted on whether to pat Anne's hand the way she did when she meant to comfort others. It didn't take long for the woman to notice, and as such, she patted Seras' hand once more, secretly showing her the technique of patting hands. "You know…" Anne began, gaining Seras' attention. "If life ever presents you the opportunity to live a little…Seras…live a little." She winked.

"Uh…I'm not sure what you mean, I'm afraid."

"Live a little. Live in all kinds of positions. Even if you're young forever, everything around you will come and go, so live while it's here."

"What?" Oh no. Seras was beginning to understand.

"Endless amounts of men, but how little of us get to enjoy ourselves fully. I lost my Ralph and ever since then it's been England's longest dry spell."

"Good God, Anne!"

"We're both women here, don't be shy. Now, I understand you have no experience therefore I'm willing to—"

"Anne! Stop!"

"Teach all I know regarding the subject—"

"I'm going to go!"

"It's not hard, really. Not at all. Men are such simple creatures to please—"

"The door is right there. I'm heading out now."

"They liked to be touched. That door is locked, by the way. The door over there, darling, is the one you'll need. As I was saying—"

"Goodbye then!"

"And yet you're still here sitting down beside me. Come on, listen now. You want to know…" Anne stared at Seras, a mischievous look in her eye. Despite every ounce of Seras telling her that the old woman was absolutely mad and she should go, the remnants of her humanity forced her to stay and fully satisfy her curiosity regarding the subject the elder so brutally pulled out of the air. Anne was enjoying herself far too much. Seras sat still, her body petrified. "You know dear, I don't have my own daughter to push around and attempt to live vicariously through, so you'll have to do."

"Yes, ma'am," Seras squeaked. Why was she taking orders from a servant?

"Now, I can't say much, unfortunately. It's been so long I have cobwebs growing on me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cobwebs," Anne added seriously, nodding her head slowly.

"Miss Anne…I don't believe I feel comfortable."

"That's because you're so stiff. Try to relax. I was 21 years old when I first decided to have a go under the sheets, and oh, I enjoyed it so much. It felt like I was flying. Before that, I barely even knew I had a clito—"

"Walter!" Seras suddenly declared, standing up as the butler entered the room. Walter only regarded her with a confused expression, wondering why she felt the need to be so formal around him. He served her, after all, not the other way around.

Still, he did the proper thing and bowed at her presence. "Good evening, Miss Victoria. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I'm going to need Miss Douglas's company."

"No, no, it's all alright. Anne…you have to go." Seras plopped herself back down as Anne stood, almost snickering with delight. If there was one privilege that came with age, it was the ability to speak about anything she wanted to and pass it off as senility or wisdom. Perhaps both.

Anne approached Walter, nodding as he whispered the problem ahead. Oh, that was so unfortunate. As Hellsing's retainer, of course Walter had to take care of the problem, but Anne's assistance was always welcomed. With two pair of hands working to find more information regarding Millennium, it would only be sooner before they could quickly exterminate the issue. Walter lifted her chin gently as Anne muttered a complaint, watching Seras squirm from the corner of his eye. There was always time for some good fun, however.

As they left the room, both heard Seras breathe a sigh of relief. "What exactly did you say to her?" Walter asked, almost smiling.

"Nothing I found too horrid. I simply answered her questions and informed her about…the dynamics of men and women."

"…You're a rather cruel woman."

Anne laughed. "This coming from an old madman."

"There is little difference between wisdom and madness."

"I suppose you're right." She scoffed at Walter who only smiled with amusement.

Yes, there was always time for some good fun.


	5. The Stone Slab

**I don't own Hellsing. This is a small drabble I wrote while trying to work out the next two stories. I did a big ole infodump on the second chapter (sorry about that) so I decided to introduce little issues subtly now. Next I do plan to have her interact with Integra and then with Arthur and Walter, but this time, back in the 1960s when Anne was a young woman and Arthur was alive and well.  
**

* * *

She sat on a park bench, staring out into the great big emptiness of the grass and its occasional play structure. Her eyes drifted to the bumbling steps of the young children racing each other and fighting over some decrepit old toy. Their giggles and yells surrounded her, and with every sound of laughter radiating from the children's lips, her heart sank. Her stomach began to pain her, and her arms felt heavy.

She stood from her spot, calmly walking past the small park and smiling towards the stumbling little ones who fell against her leg. The toddlers didn't have a sense of fear towards her. It was an old woman, like their grandmother who gave them biscuits and candy. To their surprise, she offered them nothing except sweet words of comfort and guidance to their mothers. Where was their chocolate chip biscuit? Anne was not their grandmother. She'd never be their grandmother.

She rode quietly in her car, the emptiness of the vehicle burdening her body, and the jabbering of the radio bringing her little solace. Every so often, she would hear the rattle of plastic keys, and the gentle cooing of an infant. A wisp of blonde hair would appear beside her, and small hazel eyes blinked in confusion. Stopped at a red light, Anne let out a small breath as a mother hurried her boy along. It had been 39 years. There was nothing beside her. There was no wisp of blonde hair, no small hazel eyes, no rattling of plastic keys.

The car finally stopped at the destination, and she stepped out empty handed as she had been for the past four decades. The giggling of children lost stopped as she entered the gates of the cemetery. On the way to the stone marker, Anne saw and picked up a small slab of flat rock. It was no larger than a notebook, and didn't weigh all that much considering its thickness. Filled with a strange mix of ease and contrition, Anne set the slab before the larger stone marker. She would write no name on it, not when it never had a name.

She stood in front of the grave, her arms crossed at her stomach and slightly leaning forward. Tears hung by a thin thread at the edge of her eyes, and the name carved into the stone blurred slightly more every passing second. She quickly blinked, and the dangerous tear fell abruptly to her cheek, the smallest of droplets remaining caught in her eyelash. After a quick glance at the dulling diamond on her left hand, the woman left.

* * *

**The name is Ralph Douglas, her deceased husband. Just letting y'all know although I'm sure people knew.**


	6. Kiss It

**Finished writing this. It took a long, long while. Not happy with it, to be honest, but better than nothing. It's a small glimpse into Integra's and Anne's relationship. I meant it to be formal externally. Externally.**

**I don't own Hellsing.**

* * *

_First you clean it, give it a nice, big kiss, and cover it up until it heals. Just like that._

_Integra stared at the cut skin as Anne washed it for her. Anne had warned the girl not to run too fast, but Integra was a headstrong child and did as she pleased. It frustrated the maid, and yet her affection remained unwavering. _

_A big kiss._

_Anne gently kissed the cut and tickled the child, causing the girl to fall into her arms in a fit of giggles. "It doesn't hurt anymore, Anne." _

_"__Of course it doesn't. Kisses make the pain go away."_

"Kiss it for me, consider that an order." Integra held her bloodied finger above the young vampire, her eyes amused and narrowing towards her.

Seras' cheeks flushed as she stuck out her tongue, awaiting the blood to drip into her mouth. The softest breath of relief was heard as Seras licked the open wound, the taste of the fresh virgin blood restoring her energy. "Don't get overly hasty and bite down…"

_I'm going to eat you!_

_Integra squealed as Anne suddenly swung her up into her arms, making loud munching sounds around Integra's head while the girl kicked wildly in the air. Her father was busy that day and had ordered for his servants to take Hellsing's heir to the park for some well-earned play time. _

_"__She caught me," Integra told Walter as the butler set her down to have her lunch. _

_"__Anne used to hunt animals in Africa. I'm sure she's excellent at finding mischievous children."_

_"__Why doesn't she hunt animals in Africa anymore?"_

_Walter regarded her kindly. "You should ask her."_

_"__I'm glad she doesn't."_

Integra stared quietly from a distance as she observed Anne separating the clothes. The elderly maid still stood with an air of dignity, and even as she washed clothing, she commanded a certain respect in compliance with her age. It wasn't long before Anne turned. Integra figured she'd notice her presence very soon. As the two shared a small glance, Anne bowed courteously. She looked away from Hellsing's commander once more, a gentle smile forming.

"Did I make the right decision?"

It was a moment of weakness on Integra's part, a hint of doubt that she never dared to show. She kept her unsure expression hidden, although failed to mask her voice of uncertainty.

"You're asking the wrong person." Anne was gentle in her reply. "I know nothing at all, Sir Integra. I am only a servant, your servant, my lady."

Was that all?

It was all that was acceptable.

Integra nodded with understanding as she settled herself down on her bed. As Anne had done since the young woman's girlhood, she removed her shoes and helped her with her coat. Anne seemed to pause when holding Integra's lovely blonde hair, remembering the times she used to brush the damned thing and the endless cries from the small mistress. She pulled too hard, or the tails were too loose. Eventually, Anne stopped fixing her hair altogether and simply brushed it in the mornings.

Anne took her coat and shoes to be cleaned, although planning to return for the rest of the clothing after Integra was ready for sleep. "Anne," Integra began, earning the steward's attention. "Remember what I've ordered. I expect more information regarding the escaped vampire by tomorrow afternoon. I'm not sure whom to find more suspicious: MI6 or the Vatican. Walter should be ready for contact with the General Director of intelligence and then we'll handle our old friends of Iscariot."

"Certainly, Miss Integra. Pardon my shortcomings; I'm simply not as capable as Walter in areas of research. However, if you need me to skin a pig for you, I consider myself excelled in that field."

Integra chuckled. "I may, so I'll be holding you accountable to that."

"Rest easy, Sir Integra."

"Yes, you too."

Anne smiled at the woman before leaving her to her business. In the washroom, Anne steam cleaned her coat, and set her shoes apart to be shined later on. As Anne hung up the coat, she remembered the first coat Integra had worn. It was a small little pink thing. Arthur had no clue what to put on the girl and had the responsibility passed on to the servant. A woman should know what girls wear, he assumed. Therefore, Anne spent generously on frilly dresses, pink coats, white and black Mary Jane shoes, flowery headbands, and little heart hair clips. The frown on the babe's face was memorable. That precious little frown. Ever since Alucard's release, Anne saw it often on Integra.

The steward returned to Integra's room, the same room she had slept in since she was a child. She was a woman of habit. She never dared to change much. To that day, she silently suffered through any changes of Anne's cleaning traditions.

Anne collected the dirty clothes of that day, and stood in silence for a moment as Integra slept. A hand slightly twitched at the desire to stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead the way she used to when she was no more than 4 years old. Those beautiful little blue eyes filled with love and wonder. Now, they must be hardened with esteem and competence. Anne suppressed her wishes to gush praise at her, to tell her how proud she was upon seeing her grow, and how much her heart filled with joy to hear her speak with resolve. She wished to tell Integra her thoughts when she asked for them, and let her know of the remarkable job she did commanding her organization.

But she didn't.

She was only a servant.

* * *

**The small conversation Anne and Integra have where Integra is discussing orders comes from a story I'm planning to write with an actual plot rather than independent stories. I need to figure out Anne's voice and relationship with canon before I do that, so any opinions are appreciated.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	7. A Debt to Collect

**Warning: graphic content ahead. Not for the squeamish (if I wrote it well enough, that is). Although, to be frank, if you watch Hellsing you shouldn't be squeamish at all so that's that. **

_READ: Anne is about early to mid 30s in this chapter. So this isn't usual elderly Anne, this is a glimpse into her character during her prime as a huntress. You can make your own conclusions regarding her characterization at this time._

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The body lay in increasing waste, a thin slice down the abdomen bursting with pressure. Blessed bullets riddled the corpse's limbs, the skin around it swelling until it approached an odd resemblance to a glossy golf ball. Whatever holy power those bullets held coursed through the body of the creature, its mouth agape in stunned horror as two blades pierced its lower abdomen. At the contact of the cold silver, the content of the monster's gut spilled onto the woman's feet. Rotting sinews thick and brown with decaying blood stained once glimmering heels, heels that punctured through long, unwinding bowels.

"How appropriate," she said softly. "It is remarkably fitting how such a smug and fearsome creature as yourself be reduced to a pile of shit."

Amber eyes glared down at the gasping fiend, wide eyes tarnished with blood pooling in its corners staring back the sneering huntress. "Not…me…"

Anne let out a small breath of comfort, frowning ever so slightly. "I know, my love. I'm certain you were once a lovely woman. I can see it. Your smile, I imagine, must've been so charming. Yes, I can see you in exquisite dresses walking to your flat with a smitten fellow, sweet words coating rather nasty intentions. It breaks my heart, truly. I can barely stand to see those sharpened teeth, what awful things they did to your smile. Absolutely horrid fangs…"

A scream pierced through the dark as the barrel of the young woman's sniper displaced those horrid fangs from the other's mouth. It was only right, to help the girl regain her pretty smile. Anne chuckled good-heartedly. "Beauty is pain, isn't it? Cardinal rule women learn early in their rearing. Women are, after all, nothing more than sweet plates of dessert. Food to be chewed by the mouths of men, burped after their stomachs are filled. We make ourselves appetizing, perhaps then we shall be sold to a tolerable gentleman."

"W-why…?"

Anne raised a brow. "Why don't I kill you?"

The vampire slowly nodded, the blood pooled in her collarbone dripping down the juncture of her neck and sprinkling the moist soil.

"Ah." She smiled towards her prey, a soft laughter escaping her lips before her sentiments developed into a feminine tenderness. "You see, darling. You pretty girl. You are part of a debt. A debt I intend to collect. How many souls did that belly of yours have? How many sons did you take from their mothers, husbands from wives, and fathers from children? The debt is substantial, and a quick death is never enough. Each of you monsters has a price to pay, a price I'm glad to charge. That cheeky grin you had before you killed that officer…how many of those fangs do you think it was worth? One? Two? Ten perhaps? Maybe even your tongue. The price is steep. Your corpulent husk isn't enough, and so I oversee the proper handling to inflate its worth."

"But I…couldn't…was forced…"

A choked gasp escaped from the corpse as Anne drove a silver stake into her throat. "Shh…you mustn't speak. The dead have no more tales to tell." Anne stood tall once more, casting a small somber glance at the smirking moon. "Forced…unfair…what would you have me think? You're far from alone in every aspect I can think of. We are all in service of chance, slaves of circumstance, and prisoners of our birth. Wishful thoughts carry us a great distance from our reality, but thoughts that can produce nothing are valued at nothing. Only what's real matters anymore. Feel pity for you? Is that what you want? I can't do that. Should I cry for every being served a cruel fate, I'd surely flood the world with my tears. I can't collect what's mine with water in my eyes, but please, do accept my deepest apologies. And love…may you find peace in Hell."

The trees rustled as frightened ravens desperately flew from their nests, the hoarse, guttural screech shattering their once peaceful rest. In a matter of seconds, the wretched sound was gone, replaced with a low giggles of satisfaction followed by small hums of sorrow. What a gentle girl she was, killed with childish ease. Anne believed her to had once been such a kind little thing, believed it until the moment she slit her heart in two.

One pound of flesh, the debt remained.


	8. Rumours

**Hellsing isn't mine. Anne and apparently Maggie are.**

* * *

The front was always empty. With only one master and no guests, the manor remained quiet and dull. It was preferred that way. The master was not one fond of surprises, and disturbances on her grounds tended to indicate the presence of unwelcomed guests or unruly subjects. No, the front of the mansion remained pristine, untouched, unseen, and untroubled.

The back, however…

The back was comparable to a busy port. Servants streaming in and out, holding something to be cleaned, washed, transported, and disposed of. The number of help necessary to maintain each meter of the house and its inhabitants were numerous and messy. The soldiers had to be fed, clothed, and washed. Soldiers flanked all corners of the mansion, and even headquarters in London were to be accounted for in case of unexpected and unwelcomed visitors. This on top of their own needs and messes to be looked after and cleaned up.

During dinner hours, the back was so filled it became almost stagnant. Food had to be lined up at the mess halls for the soldiers, dishes needed to be taken back, tables needed to be set up, and nightly routines prepared. The first and foremost priority for the cooks was, of course, Sir Integra's meal. Hers was the most carefully cooked, tasted, and served by the dutiful butler to the master's table. For one woman, she was provided the largest meal in order to maintain a wide array of options should she bore of one plate or suddenly crave something different.

During dinner hours, it was then that the busty cooks and aging maids had their chance to take a peek at the one and only Hellsing butler. It was a phenomenon that amused the stewardess who was given complete charge of overlooking all the maids. Most of the younger ladies (and some gentlemen) gave her trouble with their fondness for handsome soldiers coupled with limited outside interaction. The older women, however, sat disinterestedly on their benches or rooms cleaning along. Younger men had no interest in the decrepit. Of that, Anne knew personally.

For those same older women, nevertheless, dinnertime was prime time. The older male cooks were in full display working above steaming hot stoves and aging gardeners with new learners came in from a full day of outdoor work. The elderly women of less filthy tastes would then see the two onsite doctors and older male nurses nearby. Then, of course, was the only Butler.

It was no secret that Walter C. Dornez was one hell of a good-looking silver fox. As he entered the back room where the maids washed dishes while the cooks prepared and decorated the food, there was a small flood of whistles, women calling out his name, and bemused giggles. The younger girls stuck out their tongues in a gagging reflex while the older women shrugged and indulged.

Besides Anne, an elderly cook turned towards the incoming butler and shook her head. "That man makes every woman over 50 weak at the knees."

Anne smiled. "And under 50. For different reasons, of course."

The cook, Margaret "Maggie" Yeats, laughed at this as she cleared the steam from her station and moved the meat onto a white porcelain plate. Maggie was among the oldest of cooks, having been a favourite of Arthur Hellsing himself with her odd mix of spices and seasonings on her meat and potatoes. Her apprentice, a 28 year old pretty, young thing, spent her time baking desserts neither Anne nor Maggie could eat after they turned 55 years old. Being a rather sweet girl, she showed the servants around her the newest cake or muffin design. Walter himself had once commented how delightful they looked. If Walter thought they were "delightful" then that could mean a step closer to actually showing the master herself. Anne had spent 40 years with that man and didn't have the heart to tell the girl that most of his statements were dismissive in nature.

"Not a lot of options for us here, I'm afraid," Maggie went on, resigned. "So we gawk at the same men every day and hope their faces still amaze us tomorrow."

"Really, I am genuinely amazed every day. I keep looking and none of us appear to be younger…what a disillusioning thought."

"What a pity, too. Laborious work doesn't exactly lend us much chance to age gracefully." Maggie glanced at the butler as he picked up two plates to place onto a cart he'd transport to the main dining hall. "God, he was something to look at back then. Still is now, but then…not a single girl here would be going to her room with dry knickers."

"He was rather fit, wasn't he? I remember well. This place was a schoolgirl's bedroom after he left. Unfortunate that his disposition wasn't nearly as handsome."

"If a man can have any woman he wants at any hour he wants, I don't imagine it will be." Maggie chuckled and grinned towards Anne. "Don't pretend you weren't included. Let's not lie to each other. We've known the other far too long for that."

"Oh, I wasn't pretending. I thought what I thought, but still I never forgot about my own man."

"There are rumors of nights that say otherwise."

Anne raised her brow at her. "And if the rumors were true, it doesn't change my statement."

"Even during?"

"I remembered him most during. Assuming that these vicious rumors are true."

"Running on this assumption, care to share your reasoning?"

Anne sighed and put down her teacup. "Well," she began. "Those rumored nights had nothing more to them than a quick search for sufficient gratification. Nothing at all like what I experienced when my husband was alive, bless his soul. He'd get on, go in, and get off me and I'd be on my way with an unbearable weight on my shoulders for succumbing to something as base as my sexual desires while my husband's death was still fresh in my memory. Women have their needs, certainly, but then…I thought I was better than that. I was at the age where I thought shagging a man indicated some sort of affection, and doing so was a sign that I no longer cared about my first love. It felt horribly improper of me, shameful…no…vile, that I dared have any physical pleasure while he and my own son rotted in the ground. I remembered him most during those rumored nights. I went for relief, stayed until I was satisfied, and I came back disgusted with myself."

"So you survived and decided to throw your life away?"

"That's really the root of it all. I did. In more ways than one. Sex is the most meaningless way I can think of, there's so much more wrong I've done that I must carry to my grave. It's the only place I can set them down."

Maggie nodded in understanding. She didn't know of a worker who didn't come with his or her own heavy-hearted stories. Men and women did not arrive to the Hellsing Organization filled with hopes and dreams of the future. It was an ill quality to have when, besides basic necessity, all the organization guaranteed was a possibility of death at the hands of immortal creatures. With a deep breath, Maggie pushed the finish plate aside into a line that would be loaded onto a cart. "So…continuing to assume any truth to these rumours…how was he?"

Anne laughed lightly at this, more so as Walter came back into the room to drop off dishes and bring back a specifically requested dessert. In a brief moment, they exchanged glances; old wrinkled eyes staring at each other in an odd combination of fond and bitter memories, and general indifference. 40 long years. "I've never been able to decide if I was very, very good or he wasn't as remarkable as he thought. Arguments could be made for both."

The cook burst into loud laughter, and quickly, Anne smiled kindly at Walter while he shook his head bemusedly before walking off. Pushing herself off the counter, she tossed the cup in a container of dirty dishes for later. For now, she had better things to clean. "Very well," she continued. "I mustn't speak anymore. I don't want to feed any of these atrocious rumours. I am a proper Englishwoman and I will not give life to scandal."

"We don't want that."

"Not at all. I haven't touched a man since 1986. Of that I'm absolutely certain. Irrefutable."

"I will never question your decency again."

"And I will never give you reason to question it. Now that my dignity has been thoroughly defamed with these appalling stories, I will leave you to your duties and empty gossips."

"Best to you."

The nerve of some bored servants with their silly talks, assuming the rumors are false.


	9. Untitled

**A/N: I've officially decided to change the rating of this to M. I'm finding I'm writing more and more violence, and even introducing more things of a stronger sexual nature. While I never go too, too explicit, it's explicit enough that I believe it warrants a mature rating. I hope you enjoy anyway.**

* * *

The blood was thick and fresh, glimmering in the soft moonlight. It pooled at the top of her breasts, congealing to the soft skin and seeping into the crevice of her mounds. Splatters of the deep red substance stained her face and torso, dripping down her sides, and colouring the tips of her fingers almost violet and oily. It was a beautiful sight, the gentle mix of crimson smeared against ivory skin.

No, it was an arousing sight. Her skirt was torn, her shirt all but left in tatters, and her hair wet with sweat and more blood. Strands clung to her cheek and chin, her lips pink and warm with the heat of battle, and her thoughts still clouded with the fierceness of her kills. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the mangled bodies she had left behind. Bloated, cracking, and twisted by holy bullets and silver knives. Fangs ripped from their mouth and scattered about the floor, eyes hanging from their sockets by a thick vein, and throats cut down to the bone. For some unlucky ones, usually men, she had opened their chest cavities and sliced their hearts in half. Those creatures broke her heart, she was only returning the favour.

As the butler lied there beneath her, he felt like another one of her prey. Another prey for this sadistic huntress, broken by misfortune and savagery, overwhelmed by grief and vengeance. The thought made him shiver, his body warmer, and his heart race with anticipation. What monster this lovely woman had become, it delighted him. A powerful morbid sensuality surrounded her, and for the first time in far too long, he desired a woman's passion. No, a huntress's passion, armed with cold indifference and calculating cruelty.

The woman sensed his lust, amused and revolted by his sudden interest in her. No, not sudden. He grew more thrilled every day watching her spiral into madness. It excited him, stirred his twisted fantasies, and made him as hungry for her slim body. Yes, she knew. What a nice slice of cake she was to him now in the chaos of battle, her amber eyes stained with hatred and callous ferocity that inspired the fire in his belly to burn wildly. As she dragged her blood-soaked fingertips down his neck and collar, she imagined he wanted to chew her up ravenously, and when he was full, he'd belch her.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Walter?" she questioned, her voice smooth and sultry.

He eyed her carefully, noticing the amusement in her expression. "Not as much as I'd like."

"What a pity." She chuckled as she pressed down on his lower region, stimulating his already present interest.

"Indeed it is. A shame, really, and nastily unjust. You've been stealing all the fun this entire evening."

"Does that vex you?"

He scoffed. "Obviously not…or at least, it can be compensated."

She felt his hands rest on her hips, relishing the feeling of ripped clothes barely covering her skin. For a moment, she considered it. She slaughtered dozens tonight, and the sensation of a monster gasping for their blasphemous un-life…it was absolutely exhilarating.

Still, she moved his hands away. "My apologies…I'm married."

"You mean you _were_ married."

"It makes no difference, not when he didn't leave me by his own will."

"Don't be absurd. A corpse does not care for its widow."

"Enough talk of that." Anne stood up, scanning the area for the pet vampire. Such a loud, obnoxious creature, how would one not be able to spot him easily? Unless he decided tonight was a good night for his occasional brooding.

The butler stood beside the maid, bemused at her rejection of him. What a comically repugnant thought. The Angel of Death scorned for the sake of a rotting corpse somewhere deep in the dirt. "It's been 6 years since his death," Walter said, dismissing the absent Alucard. He was never one to worry about the vampire; it wasn't as if the thing could die anyway. One way or another, the dog will find its way back to the master.

"Yes, I'm aware," replied Anne softly. "I suppose we should move on without him."

Without a word, Walter walked forward, soon sensing Anne walking steadily behind him. It would be a fairly short walk, only 30 minutes to the main camp where they were stationed on their field mission. From there, it was a simple 2 hours ride back to London.

"Have you ever been in love, Walter C. Dornez?"

Walter paused at the sudden question, facing the silly girl. "No."

"Then I strongly suggest silencing yourself on matters you understand nothing about."

"I know my share of things."

Anne walked closely up to him, resting her hand on his chest while staring into his grey eyes. "I never said anything about knowing. I said you didn't understand. You could know everything, but you'll never understand anything."

"Care to make sense of that?"

"You can know about a widow's grief, but you couldn't understand it. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever understand what it means to be human, if you feel those same things the common man walking down a dirty city street feels."

"Perhaps I don't. It's a quality I'm rather grateful to possess. Lust, I can handle. Even right now, I wouldn't mind throwing you against ground and having my way. But love…absurd. A tired old thing, foolish in essence and a sleepless liar. Look at you, reducing yourself to nothing but an expendable weapon in love with a pile of decaying flesh. Pathetic."

"That was driven by hate."

"Hate you wouldn't have felt if you hadn't loved."

"There you are…failing to understand once more. Sounding like a petulant little boy stomping his oversized foot against the ground crying about some indifferent girl he failed to woo. Me the pathetic one? To an extent, I can't argue with you about that matter. But don't pretend you aren't as pitiful as I am. We're both expendable weapons. I'm a bitch and you're a hound, living the same wretched life. For our own reasons, of course. We were all born into this world's beautiful horror, but at least I found a blissful respite…even if it was brief. And here you are: bitter."

"Bitter? Hardly. No, I would say I'm more…cautious about my emotions. We all have our frustrations, and a woman's love wouldn't alleviate a bloody thing. Would I be less of a hound if I loved a bitch? Our life demands service. Everything else is a lethal distraction. My respite is the promise of death, as is yours now. Nothing else matters, nothing else will ever matter. A weapon, yes…but I'm not the one inflicting misery upon myself over a corpse…rubbish left to worms."

Walter felt a sharp sting on his cheek, realizing Anne had slapped him across the face. Just as she was about to slap him again, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly. There was no sympathy in him, no shame in his words. Only punishing sincerity. "Mocking me…is this how you try to seduce me?"

"Try? What makes you think I'm trying? Certainly, I do find you attractive. You're a beautiful woman, but I'm not begging for your cunt."

Anne's raged swelled, and she found herself reaching for her gun. Thin wires wrapped around her other wrist, pulling it up to his hand. "Let's not do anything you'll regret," he warned.

"You're absolutely detestable. A fiend," she said heatedly.

"And you desire me, don't you? That woman you were, that was all a farce created by expectation. You love to kill more than you love any man. You're no longer suffocated by a wife's duty; your duty now is to death. And you revel in it."

"I kill to avenge the man I love…it is the reason it brings me pleasure to see them choke on their own blood."

Walter stared at her for a long while, eventually releasing her. "We should get back to camp. Hurry." And so she went, wracked by grief.

Staring at the inside of the tent from her cushioned seat, she remembered that night: the cold cot, the sharpness of her shrieks, the cowardice in her desperation to escape, the rustle of trees at her beloved's pitched screams as he slowly died…the corpse of her baby boy in her hands as she wailed.

She no longer knew what she was, losing herself in memories, rage, and bitterness. Walter was right; she reveled in her service to death. For death now had her husband, and commanded those that would insult it with immortality. A command she was happy to fulfill for it fueled her vengeance, tossed compensation in the debt she demanded be paid by those wretched unholy beasts.

Confused and resentful, she longed to forget about that night. She was indescribably pathetic.

The distraught woman appeared before the cold, callous man. With a forgotten sexual prowess, she untied her robe, letting it fall carelessly onto the ground. Her body exposed, she dismissed their earlier feud and his sickening words. Once more with her sitting atop him, she unbuttoned his vest and dress shirt, her still bloodied fingers tracing his collar. "Make me forget. Have your way."

He smirked. "As you wish, Miss Douglas."

* * *

**A/N: I sorta tried to write this story as confusing and conflicting as Anne's behaviours, thoughts, and emotions. It's during this time that she's suffering a deeper descent into insanity and sadism, propelled by rage at her loss and complete blindness for vengeance, infused with the mourning of a widowed and motherless woman. Her relationship with Walter is strictly professional, and sexual at times since she's in such a confused and vulnerable state. In other words, Anne is simply a hot mess. She's been corrupted, her bloodlust growing, and in due time, it'll die with disillusionment upon reflection of her lost life, replaced by a suffocating regret and nostalgia. She simply tires out of this hatred upon witnessing herself grow old, alone, and forever miserable at all her poor decisions. Her only peace comes from awaiting death, and finding the strength to forgive and let her dead rest in peace.**


	10. Author's Note 1

This chapter is entirely an author's note. You may dismiss it. I'll be resuming normal chapters shortly after this. But I've decided to write this as a sort of explanation to my decisions regarding the characters and aspects of the story. I'm not getting much traffic or many reviews, so this is probably unnecessary, but I still want to put it out there.

For one, some may notice that I write a lot featuring Walter, and in many ways, the stories do centre around him and this character. In upcoming chapters, he might actually be the real focus. The simple reason to this is that Walter is my favourite character in Hellsing. And you won't be seeing a lot of Alucard for various reasons.

The first reason is that I haven't smoothed out the exact relationship I want Alucard to have with my FC, Anne. I hope to have made it very clear that Anne doesn't like Alucard, and the dislike stems from fear. Alucard is a monster. He doesn't have a sense of compassion or sympathy, and his very presence triggers that trauma within Anne of the event that took her family away. That he is also so mocking, arrogant, and pointlessly vicious to those he sees as inferior (which is essentially everyone but Integra), only hurts her view of him more. She no longer hates vampires, but she doesn't want anything to do with them. They are like dirt to her, and she'll clean it off if given orders, but besides that, she has no interest in knowing any of them. Vampires are a reminder of her losses, all of them. Her physical losses and her emotional losses. Her literal losses and her theoretical/rhetorical losses. At the same time, my intention is for Alucard to have a sort of lust stemmed in respect and admiration. The reason being is that Alucard likes Old People.

Anne is an elderly woman. She is 65 years old. In addition, she's a strong elderly woman. She's physically fit, she's very capable with all sorts of weapons, and she's very dignified in her stride. She spent her entire adulthood fighting these vampires, and embraces her old age since she sees death as this gift of freedom. In that sense, her and Alucard have that in common: they both have deep, deep regret for something they did in the past. Alucard chose to become an immortal monster, and Anne threw away her chance of life to kill those monsters since they took everything from her. Both are deeply regretful. Except...Anne gets to escape. Anne will get a chance to be freed from her mistake, and sees death as that great passageway to peace she never had. Meanwhile, Alucard stays. He will always stay until a human kills him, and my intention between the two was to make it that Alucard is jealous of Anne since he knows that she hates what she did to herself but she gets to leave while he's stuck there. And there she is, in her elderly body, aging with pride and embracing mortality with good humour. And to him, that is a beautiful thing, and Anne becomes this beautiful, pitiful woman. Alucard respects humanity and mortality, and Anne is a human being who has accepted her eventual demise with grace.

It is difficult enough for me to explain it, but to actually write it out subtly but enough that you know what my intentions are is not something within my ability at the moment. So I'm still brainstorming and trying to figure out how to do this and fleshing this out. It even makes me sad that I'm writing it here, but this is pretty much a tell all. Hence, an author's note.

The second reason is simply because I also struggle to write Alucard as a character. He's very...erratic. I'm never quite so sure what tone to take on for him because he's behaved in every sort of way throughout the manga and anime and OVAs.

The third reason is that Alucard isn't actually my favourite character. As I said, it's Walter. In fact, my top five favourite characters are Walter, Integra, Shelby Penwood, Pip Bernadotte, and then Alucard. Followed by Seras Victoria, Alexander Anderson, The Major, and afterwards they're all about even. But yes, Penwood is above Alucard for me. Because I like humans. I loved the human characters, and I loved the show's emphasis on humanity. It's the reason I created an old woman to begin with. That's actually one of my favourite aspects about Alucard as well: he believes in order to truly live, there must be a promise of death. He praises humanity in the highest, and those he considers truly human are the ones that can bare the weight of an inevitable death like he could not. That is what Alucard wants his death to be by. He's a poetic character, and I do love his arrogance yet still dejected characterisation, but...not my favourite. At the same time, that's also what knocks him down. He's a monster. Although he does admire humanity and regret his actions, my leanings have always been to celebrate humanity. The characters that delve into the strengths of humanity are the ones I love the most. Into the strengths, the shortcomings, and all of the unpredictability of ordinary humans. That's why Penwood is in there. He is a frightened man, but sacrifices himself in a selfless act in defense of country and fellow humans. Humans are brave and they don't need unlimited power to show their amazing strength and courage. I love that. But at the same time, they're very flawed, they make terrible errors, and feel despair that can't be fixed.

Walter is my favourite human because he is the most human of them all, even more than Integra.

I love Walter C. Dornez for many reasons and I love writing him in. He is Human, whether he likes it or not. Walter is an old man who really is this sadistic little boy engaged in a one-sided childhood feud with Alucard. He is proud, but he's not proud of his humanity, he's proud of his moniker: the Angel of Death. That's who he wants to be. He is a human being who wants to be more than a monster, but death itself. Not Hellsing's trashman, but Death's representative. Part of his ambitions to become the Angel of Death in mind, body, and soul is to defeat Alucard. Alucard is the embodiment of immortality, the closest thing to immortal there is. To defeat Alucard is triumph over that immortality, delivering death to what cannot be killed, and a sort of immortality in of itself in memory. Walter wants that glory of victory, wants that brand of immortality through memory more than literal immortality. He is a little punk who is trying to whip it out and measure it against Alucard, and dang it, his will be bigger.

Except it's not.

Walter fails. And that's what I love about him. He failed miserably. He lost everything: home, country, identity...the entire sum of his being, for that one chance to prove his worth as The Angel of Death...and he fails. He's not The Angel of Death, he is only Walter C. Dornez. His synthetic body becomes what his aspirations amounted to: a mockery of a monster. The most tragic part of that is that all his fears came true by his own hand. He died a lonely, rejected failure. In the end, I call him the most human character because he had the most human experience. For his dreams, he gave everything up, and failed. And why all of it? Because he's scared. He was a scared little boy. He was going to grow old and die without a single thing to leave behind. He's so human, he experienced the most human emotions in the entire series: fear of becoming meaningless and forgotten. We're all scared of amounting to nothing in the end, and in our way, we do try to leave a mark on the earth. We try to do what we've always wanted to do, and sometimes we fail. Walter tried to leave his mark because he was afraid of the nothing coming for him, and he failed. Even more, his own actions guaranteed a forgotten existence.

In this way, him and Anne are different. Anne doesn't care. Anne feels her life became meaningless the moment she chose to waste it killing vampires rather than live an ordinary woman's life. So she cannot be more meaningless than she is now, and she finds being forgotten as proper penance for her sins. She did it to herself, and she knows she did. She has no-one to blame but her. (I'll be mentioning this in an upcoming chapter actually)

Now, Walter and Anne's relationship is simple: comrades. Honestly. Adult comrades. They're coworkers who have been living on the job for 39 years together. Every single day, they wake up, and they have to look at each other's face. For 20 of those 39 years, Alucard wasn't even there, so it was just them. They started out roughly since they have such different perceptions and eventually grow to be this old couple thing where they now get along better and even enjoy each other's company. Their relationship isn't intricate at all. It's very straightforward. They're two old people, they had a rough youth, and one is a bitter, scared punk while the other is a tired washed up has been. They work together. They're friends. Anne isn't intimidated by Walter like she is with Alucard since Walter is a human man, and not only that, the human man that saved her life even if he was a massive asshole to her later.

Then there's another aspect I intended that seemed natural for me and very straightforward is the sexual aspect. He's a human man. She's a human woman. Men have needs. So do women. He's got the stick. She's got the loop. Together for 39 years with limited outside contact. And to be honest, there's no way Walter is a virgin regardless of OC or not. I actually think Walter's character does enjoy sex and his "conquests" might be the ladies he served during his time under Arthur. Not Arthur's prostitutes, but more higher British society ladies that he's...well...given his services to. At least that's what I imagine for him. I don't know. I'm not Hirano.

Back to my FC and Walter, yeah, I went ahead and created that sexual part of their relationship. To put it very simply, they're supposed to be to each other that person you call when you don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend but you still want your itch to be scratched. Essentially, a friends with benefits. I do consider myself an adult, somewhat...hehe...and my experience with others is usually when they're stressed or shit has gone down badly or they just need to escape from reality, they call up that fuck buddy and have a night out and in the sheets. And I would think Hellsing's universe would be the same since...well...it's 1999 London plus vampires. But obviously, the show's nature allows "grown-up" topics like sex...in fact, a huge point in the series is Integra being a virgin and non-virgins become ghouls and there are like 2 rape scenes so yeah, nothing is "too serious" for this series lol.

And that's all for this author's note. The next one, if I write it, should be shorter and address other characters and my interpretations of those.

Later. Sorry for the huge dump.


	11. Burden of Time

**A/N: Eh. Flaky chapter. Hope you enjoy anyway. Next one will be with the Wild Geese, I'm thinking. Dun know.**

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Everyone forgets about the elderly.

Anne sat on a bench outside in the manor grounds, doting on her two dogs. Around her, flowers she had planted were plucked off or trampled on, and roots scattered about her feet. The guilty animals initially backed away from the elder human as she chided them for creating such a big mess and ruining her small patch of flowers. It was such a grand mansion with acres of land for them to run around in, and somehow the two girls, Ladybird and Laura, managed to destroy the one patch Anne grew her flowers in.

After her disappointment subsided, Anne was quick to forgive her two companions and provided them with ample affection. They were the closest thing to children she ever had, and she spoiled them rotten to the best of her abilities. Ladybird, she thought, would need a grooming soon, and Laura was behind on her anxiety medication. Things were busy around the mansion, but it was no excuse to be negligent.

Upon hearing the faintest rustle, Anne pulled out her gun and aimed it at the source of the sound, only to find an amused Walter with a hand faintly up and another holding an umbrella. "Sprightly as ever, I see."

Anne scoffed. "You startled me."

"My deepest apologies. You should be getting inside, the weather doesn't seem too agreeable today."

"Does it matter?"

Walter let out a small breath as he stared at the woman getting damp due to the light drizzle of rain. She gazed into the distance, apathetic towards her surroundings and ashamed of her pathetic presence. There was nothing he could say to the woman that meant anything to her. The story was the same as always: she was old, lonely, and likely forgotten by her own family. A proper price for her sins. The elderly were never missed, she'd muse. They were tossed aside for the freshness of youth, and inside their wrinkled bodies, only felt the weight of time as they inched closer to an irrelevant death.

It was a burden the old butler felt as well. The burden of a useless and trivial existence, his once robust body humbled by time's cruelty and weight of human frailty. Walter sat beside the unfazed woman, finding an odd consolation in her company. Perhaps it was because they were two old retirees with rusty knees sitting on rocking chairs when they weren't serving their master. In any case, she could use the umbrella. Anne had aged well in physical appearance, but her body was more fragile than his, something he imagined was a result of decades spent grieving.

Being her only human company, Anne leaned against the old butler, resting her head on his shoulder. She could still recall the age where she thought it'd be scandalous to do so, now she couldn't give a rat's wet bottom. Walter, in return, could recall the age he'd find it slightly irritating considering his upright and self-important attitude, now he put his arm around her and gave even less of a care about it. The only thing he could care about at that moment was making sure the dogs didn't spray mud all over the bottom of his trousers. He lost count of the times he requested Anne keep her mutts at bay. They were large, frequently dirty, malodourous, and slobbered all of his shoes and the floors when they were let inside.

"Nobody remembers us," Anne muttered. "Why would anyone waste their time remembering the old and decrepit?"

"Come on, now. Getting old isn't all that dreadful. We're enjoying our prosperity after all those years of violence. This is the delight of proper English gentlemen and ladies."

Anne glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You? Enjoying your years without a drop of violence? Look at you lying to me. I thought we were better friends than that, Walter. That's all rubbish, we both know it."

"Perhaps, but the sentiment still matters."

"Bugger it all."

Walter chuckled, relaxing his usually stiff posture. "Yes, I suppose so."

Dreamily, she touched his gloved palm, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in thought. "Time is a terrible thing, Walter. The only good that comes from it are fond memories. Even the undead, standing in their immortality, are tortured by Time's Watch. While we shrivel up into dust, those monsters are driven to deepest depths of madness."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, love. Time is an abstract construction; it chases the common man throughout his life, ticks readily in his ears counting down to the moment his body is thrown into a pit of dirt. A fearsome thing, but a tormentor? Hardly. Time is a scribe…keeping record of the cruelty life inflicts upon those living in its realm as it mocks the suffering. It will one day end for you and I. Time will move on, and in death, we escape the maddening burden of this existence. But monsters such as Alucard…Time remains apathetic to their cries as long as they have a place among the living."

Anne nodded in agreement, eventually looking up at the aged butler. For a second, she saw his youthful face once more. It's been so long, but she still remembered how handsome he used to be. In truth, he was still handsome, a right fit old man. Perhaps in another life, they would've gotten along better instead spending all those years resenting and scorning one another.

Noticing her glance, Walter locked eyes with her, silver meeting gold, both filled with memories of a lifetime of horrors. He didn't flinch when she gently touched his face, having always wondered what exactly that woman felt for him. There were times where he could swear she loved him, and other times where he felt like another piece of furniture in her presence, just a simple colleague with his own duties.

Anne, smiling, winked at him. "You're wondering what I feel for you, am I right?"

"If you insist."

She laughed. "Whatever you want, Walter. I feel whatever you'd like."

"I'd like some honesty. As you said yourself, I thought we were better friends than to lie to each other."

"Oh, I am being honest. Almost 70 years old and you still don't understand a bloody thing."

She stood, deciding her clothing was soiled enough for the day. Walter soon stood as well, sharing his umbrella with her. At the back entrance into the mansion, Anne paused for a moment. She turned towards him, her stance still gracious, as any proper Englishwoman should be no matter how wet and dirty she was at the moment.

There was no hurry, and so she pressed her lips against his slowly. It was no longer a surprise that he accepted, even kissed her back. It had stopped being a surprise more than a decade ago, when Anne let go of her guilt in being a woman and Walter felt an overwhelming desire to escape from his aging reflection for a moment.

"You were right," she whispered, parting from him. "Love is a liar, an old sleepless fool. All that nonsense it convinces you to believe…even the worst of absurdities."

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. "And you were right yourself, I must confess. Possessing it does provide a rather blissful respite from a devastating reality. Lies make everything so much sweeter."

"Are we through being philosophers?"

"Only for the evening," he joked.

Before they parted ways, Anne quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Walter…don't ever leave me alone in this world."

He paused, deep in thought. Surely, she had affection for him if she was going to say silly things like that. Then again, a woman so desperately lonely, why wouldn't she say that to the nearest old sod she found? After all, she seemed so calm saying it, her voice only tired rather than tender. Never mind it all. He smiled at her, nodding once. "As you wish."

"And Walter…"

"Yes?"

"You'll never understand a bloody thing."


End file.
